


Rush

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Series: Valentine's Kisses 2019 [22]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Competitive Douchebaggery, Enemies to Lovers, Holy UST Batman!, M/M, college fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 17:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Daishou wasn't happy to find he was going to the same college and on the same college volleyball team as Kuroo, but he decided to make the best of it by making Kuroo's existence a living hell. He never expected Kuroo to be more than up to the task of beating him at his own game.





	Rush

Well, coming to  _ this _ college was a terrible mistake.

Daishou’s nose scrunched in distaste the moment he saw Kuroo walk into the locker room, and Kuroo responded in kind, sticking his tongue out like the giant moron toddler he was. The two of them were as far apart as the claustrophobic locker room would allow, and yet it was still not enough to keep Daishou from wanting to peel that stupid expression off of Kuroo’s face like an orange.

His phone chimed, and his irritation waned when he saw that it was a text from Mika.  _ good luck, suguru! _

He really hoped that whoever Mika decided to date at her college that was so far away from his deserved someone like her. He never did, but he missed it anyway.

But now his attentions were relegated to college volleyball, trying not to fail any courses, and figuring out new and more innovative ways to piss Kuroo off enough that he would stay away.

It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it.

Their robust and exhausting first practice was enough to keep Daishou distracted from his arch nemesis that was seemingly everywhere he looked. However, the moment cleanup efforts began, Kuroo’s off-key humming of some vapid pop song made Daishou grit his teeth.

Kuroo met Daishou’s gaze over the hopper of balls he was pushing, and he smiled in a way that itched all over Daishou’s every nerve. Then Kuroo turned away with a laugh, and Daishou could feel the broom handle strain under the stress of his grip through his palms.

Oh, it was  _ on. _

The next day, Daishou arrived at the club room before everyone else. Brandishing the jar of rubber cement from his pocket, Daishou hummed a familiar jaunty song while he glued Kuroo’s court shoes to the shelf of his locker. And some sand may or may not have been adhered to the insides of his knee pads. 

It was a beautiful disaster, and Daishou thoroughly enjoyed watching it unfold. Tugging at his shoes until they popped free, Kuroo got a faceful of sweaty leather for his trouble. The sand was a success, as well, with Kuroo constantly fidgeting his knee pads all through practice, and the skin underneath was raw and irritated by the time he hit the showers.

Kuroo caught Daishou’s gaze while he was gingerly toweling off his reddened knees, and his eyes narrowed. That was fine. It wasn’t like Kuroo wouldn’t automatically assume it was him, anyway. In fact, he was counting on it.

Hands balled up into fists, Kuroo stalked over to Daishou, who was just finishing stowing his gear, and he hissed, “Leave me alone, Daishou. Just because we’re stuck on the same team, that doesn’t give you free reign to be a smarmy asshole.”

Eyes wide, Daishou forced himself to flinch away from Kuroo’s admittedly justified annoyance. “Kuroo-kun, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ohhhh, no you don’t.” Kuroo grabbed a fistful of Daishou’s t-shirt and yanked him close. “This ends now, you little snake.”

One of the upperclassmen thrust and arm between them and growled, “Knock it off, Kuroo. This guy clearly has no idea what you’re talking about, so leave him alone.”

Kuroo screwed his eyes shut and counted to ten under his breath before backing away. Once he turned back to his own belongings, Daishou bit back a smirk. It was like taking candy from a big, stupid, rooster-haired baby.

He couldn’t wait to see what else his wild imaginings had in store for Kuroo Tetsurou.

Replacing his body wash with dish soap was only the beginning. Garlic powder in his shoes, lurid porn magazines planted in his locker to cascade out upon opening, and doing math wrong out loud soon followed. Each one of them pushed buttons Daishou was sure Kuroo didn’t even realize he had.

The disturbing part was that none of it worked. 

After the dish soap bath, Kuroo sighed and grinned. “I feel fresh and alive. Thank you, humble shower gods, for your blessings today.” Upon smelling the garlicky bomb lurking in his shoes, Kuroo hummed and mused aloud, “Man, I’m really in the mood for spaghetti. Anyone else really craving a giant vat of pasta?” And it only got worse from there.

When the dirty magazines spilled from his locker, Kuroo giggled like a nine year old in the Hello Kitty store and said, “Busted.” That drew a laugh from the upperclassmen, who actually had the gall to congratulate Kuroo on his good taste in fap material.

The worst was when Daishou was deliberately doing his calculus assignment out loud and incorrectly before practice. Kuroo sat down next to him with an insipid smile and said, “Hey, it sounds like you’re having trouble. Here’s what you do.”

Kuroo then proceeded to take a sheet of notebook paper and fill it full with helpful and  _ correct _ information. Daishou already knew all of this, but he couldn’t help but loathe the stab of admiration that flared up at the knowledge that Kuroo probably did better at math than he did.

Three weeks in, and Daishou was the one who was about to lose his mind.

When their competitive season started, Daishou’s pranks ebbed in frequency due to the massive strain on his time. He couldn’t afford to bomb his own assignments because he was thinking of new and more creative ways to torment Kuroo. No doubt that ridiculous jackass thought he was winning, but Daishou couldn’t think about that. College was the gateway to his future, not Kuroo.

Once the litany of torture finally stopped altogether, Kuroo accosted Daishou after practice one day and propped his fist on his hips and laughed loudly at Daishou’s stymied face. Under his breath, Kuroo muttered, “I know it’s you, and when I get you back for this,  you’ll never see it coming. Mark my words, Suguru.”

The strange sound of his given name on Kuroo’s tongue startled Daishou in how quickly it made his face heat up. He couldn’t afford some sort of absurd distraction like this. Thinking about someone saying his  _ name,  _ of all the ridiculous things, was not even in the neighborhood of being a good use of his time or brain power.

Nonetheless, it haunted him well into the night. By the next morning, Daishou was hollow-eyed, yawning every thirty seconds, and full of a cocktail of coffee and spite. He might hate started this whole thing, but he was damn sure not going to let Kuroo finish it. Not like this.

At morning practice, Kuroo didn’t bother disguising a smarmy grin when he caught sight of Daishou’s unusually haggard countenance before he turned on the charm for the benefit of their teammates. 

“Suguru-kun, you look exhausted!” He pulled some little black case from his bag, and Daishou blanched when he saw what was inside. A fluffy brush caked powder under his eyes, and when Kuroo declared him to be “all fixed”, Daishou gagged at his sallow reflection in the compact’s mirror.

It was on, now.

“Oh, Tetsu-chan, you are so thoughtful!” Daishou wrapped his arms around Kuroo and drew him into a vice-like hug, feeling Kuroo’s surprised yelp start in his lungs and work its way up. “You’re such a good friend.”

Titters from their teammates flooded the locker room, and Daishou’s grin was wide and full for reasons that had nothing to do with makeup. If Kuroo thought he could defeat Daishou at his own game, he was woefully, desperately, terribly mistaken.

And thus their new dance began. They one-upped each other at every turn with grotesque shows of friendship and affection, a battle Daishou wasn’t even certain he was winning. He started doubting himself the moment Kuroo tipped the scales.

When he arrived at Saturday morning practice, Kuroo was staring at his phone while sitting in front of Daishou’s locker, with great big crocodile tears streaming down his face. Chin wobbling and face red and scrunched, Kuroo bleated, “My girlfriend broke up with me!” 

His pained wail elicited quiet murmurs of sympathy from the rest of the guys, and Daishou knew his performance had to be exemplary or they would start thinking he was some heartless jackass. Which he wasn’t — when it came to literally anyone but the most annoying person he knew.

“There there, Tetsu-chan, it’ll be all right.” Daishou sat next to Kuroo and threw an arm around Kuroo’s shoulders. “So, what is this silly girl’s name so I can say a prayer for her terrible choices come New Year’s?”

Kuroo looked up with a quivering lip, and Daishou could see him biting back a smirk. “Mika.”

Daishou’s fingers clenched roughly into the flesh of Kuroo’s bicep. “Well, then this Mika-chan will obviously never do better than the last guy she dated.”

“I’m sure we’ll both do better,” Kuroo cooed, and he leaned into Daishou’s awkward half-hug. “Thanks, Suguru-kun. You always know what to say.”

More than one shutter sound from cell phone cameras clicked in the locker room, and Daishou swore that if he saw any of those snaps on Facebook, he would turn his wrath on the guilty parties until they cried all the way home to their mommies.

The flood of creepy, fake affection didn’t stop, and Daishou grudgingly had to admit that Kuroo could definitely play this game with the best of them. Happy selfies and inane chatter about each other filled their social media streams. Daishou’s Twitter was full of pictures of Kuroo making cutesy faces, complete with duck lips and peace signs. 

The most disturbing development of this rapidly devolving situation was when he received a text from Mika. 

_ Congratulations! I’m really glad that you and Tetsu are so happy together. You really deserve someone who looks at you like he does. _

Daishou squelched the urge to hurl his phone onto the floor, instead opting to drop it into his bag and bury his face in his hands. This was a disaster. There was no way that he had wronged the universe so profoundly that he deserved this. Kuroo probably thought he did, but Kuroo was an idiot. An idiot who was obnoxiously good at besting Daishou at this own game.

However, enough was enough. It was time to roll out the heavy artillery. 

Their third round match in the tournament the next weekend was the perfect venue for the ultimate comeuppance. Both of them would be on the court, but Daishou had no intention of disturbing the game. The disturbing part would come right after.

The match was a good one, and the two of them worked surprisingly well together. Their blocks single-handedly stuffed at least a dozen of the other team’s best spikers, and Daishou enjoyed the rush from their stymied faces. No doubt, they figured a pair of freshmen at the net would be easy pickings. 

Nonetheless, the match dragged on into a third set, and their team started to flag in its execution of the more finely tuned plays. More than once, Daishou had to whip out an arm to whack a mis-set ball over the net rather than let it hit the floor. The set being pushed into the wrong end of a deuce kept them from losing, but everyone was spent and the game needed to end before someone made a careless mistake.

When Kuroo’s turn to serve came, Daishou could only watch in awe. With raw power nobody had the right to show off this late in a grueling match, he pumped out a wicked service ace. The audience, which was mostly other players waiting for their own matches and a few clusters of parents, cheered along with the rest of their team. 

_ Come on, you cock-headed asshole, _ Daishou murmured under his breath,  _ finish this thing. _

The next serve was returned, but the brief respite provided by the previous ace left their side more than ready. A perfect receive popped over to the setter’s spot for a quick Daishou just  _ knew _ was coming his way. In a perfect flurry of sweat and speed, Daishou hammered the ball down for a clean and indisputable kill. 

Twenty seven to twenty five, and their entire bench leapt to their feet in celebration. Their teammates were tackling each other in glee, and when Daishou went to enact his final phase of revenge, Kuroo was right there waiting for him.

“Whatever you’re going to do, just do it.” Sighing, Kuroo shook his head. “I’m really tired of fighting you.”

Kuroo’s softly spoken admission of defeat stopped Daishou in his tracks. Did he really want to do this? It was definitely a game-changer in a battle of wills, but what satisfaction was there in kicking a defeated opponent while he was down?

Well, if it were Kuroo, a whole damn lot, but Daishou relented nonetheless. “How about a handshake, then?”

“You got it.” Kuroo stuck out his hand, and Daishou accepted. It felt weird and wrong, and something anxious prickled along his spine, but he took the proffered gesture nonetheless.

He was nowhere in the realm of being prepared for the moment when Kuroo yanked them together and kissed Daishou full on the mouth for everyone to see.

It wasn’t Daishou’s first kiss by any means; he had a girlfriend through most of high school, after all. And he was pretty good at it, by all accounts, but there was nothing similar between those soft and warm kisses with Mika and this almost bruising and breathtakingly urgent thing with Kuroo.

In front of a stadium full of people.

Pissed that he didn’t think of it first but unable to scrape up the will to care, Daishou growled against Kuroo’s mouth when long, strong fingers dug into his shoulders and hauled them even closer together.

When they finally peeled apart, Kuroo was panting and his forehead rested against Daishou’s, but satisfaction oozed from his features. “You lose, Suguru.”

“Shut up.” Admittedly bested at his own game and not currently in possession of a single damn to give about it, Daishou grabbed a fistful of Kuroo’s collar and pulled him down for another kiss. 

They staggered back until Daishou reeled into the net post, and he chuckled at the official’s exclamation of surprise. When they let go of each other for real this time, everyone on both sides of the court was gawking at them with eyes like saucers and jaws hanging limply in shock.

“Do I, Tetsu?” Daishou nudged the bottom of Kuroo’s chin and clucked his tongue. “Do I really lose this fight?”

A fleet of unidentified emotions flitted across Kuroo’s face, but the two of them went back to their celebrations nonetheless. Their gear was collected, the sweat remained proudly untoweled on their brows, and a chorus of whoops and cheers followed them all the way back to their assigned changing room. 

However, Daishou lagged behind and Kuroo followed suit. “So that happened.” 

Kuroo nodded. “It did.” He crossed his arms and drummed his fingers against his bicep. “So what now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’?” Daishou rolled his eyes and tilted his head back, willing the gods to imbue with the strength not to smack the stupid right out of Kuroo. “People think we’re dating now. What the hell  _ else  _ are we supposed to do?”

“So you want to date?” Kuroo quirked a brow. 

“Absolutely not.”

“On purpose?”

“Again, because you are the dumbest person I know, no.”

“And we’ll kiss and get all handsy with each other and forget to study because we have our hands down each other’s pants.”

Daishou nearly shrieked before he dragged Kuroo into the nearest open doorway and crushed their mouths together. Kuroo hefted Daishou by his bottom and slammed his back into the wall of lockers next to them. He nearly tripped over some stranger’s bag, but it only pressed them together closer so they could savage each other’s lips like starving men.

Their hips ground together, and Daishou was in danger of manifesting a very untimely boner. Kuroo rolling his hips up against him didn’t help, but it felt too good to stop it. 

Daishou moaned when Kuroo’s attention turned to the task of trailing hot, wet kisses down the curve of his shoulder, stopping to bite and suck at the base of his throat until Daishou knew there would be a mark. Somewhere that would be difficult to hide, no less, and he expected as much.

After all the torment they had put each other through, Daishou had a pretty good idea what kind of boyfriends they would be to each other, and he couldn’t wait to start.


End file.
